


Imagine: Castiel shows off his culinary skills (or lack thereof).

by webcricket



Series: Castiel Imagines [62]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Cooking, Dessert, Food, Food Kink, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 06:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21351526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/You
Series: Castiel Imagines [62]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/916281
Kudos: 18





	Imagine: Castiel shows off his culinary skills (or lack thereof).

“Is something burn-oh boy!” You choke on the _‘ing’_ portion of your question and the smell of scorched something or other beyond saving upon entering the kitchen. 

Castiel stands situated before a smoking pan whilst simultaneously consulting a cookbook opened on the adjacent counter. Various bits and bobs of chopped veggies scatter every available surface including the floor. Evidently the seraph is attempting to smite in one go Sam’s entire haul of produce for the week. 

On hearing your exclamation, he spins to face you wearing a proud smile and grease splatter in addition to his usual - and totally cooking casual, of course - suit and trench coat attire. “According to this manual it’s called caramelization which is an oxidation of sugars that favorably enhances the flavor of food.”

Wandering over to join him, your brow ascends to the middle of your forehead. He’s so proud of himself it’s going to hurt your heart like hell to tell him the truth. “Cas honey, it’s called _burnt_ and I think the only favor left to pay this taste bud travesty is a one way ticket to the trash.”

The joyful creases rounding his eyes soften sadly into the hollows below. He looks forlornly at the cookbook and flicks the pages shut as if its practical cuisine lore was loaded with lies and let him down in a moment where the very lives of those he loved were at stake. “Are you sure?” he asks, feeling the squeeze of your fingers settle on his shoulder.

“As sure as I am that you’re the sweetest seraph I know.” Sliding between him and the stove, you rise up on your tip toes and peck his cheek to soothe with a warm wash of fondness the disappointment dimming his features. 

He slips an arm around your waist; sinking his hand to the crest of your hips to rest on the curve of flesh and bone there that seemed created to fit his form perfectly, he sighs, “I suppose you’re right-” humbly adding, since he’s the only seraph you know and in objective fairness him being your boyfriend definitely biases your judgement- “I mean, about dinner being burned.”

You follow his defeated and sorrowful stare to the charred cast iron pan, one that happens to be Dean’s most prized piece of cookware on account of it being the best vessel in the entire bunker, and possibly the world at large, in which to evenly crisp bacon. 

Cas is clearly going to need all the comfort he can get once Dean discovers the damage. You nuzzle the angel’s nose, kissing his cheek again as your mouth murmurs across his ticklishly scruffy skin, “Whaddye say we clean up this mess, grab the ice cream out of the freezer, and I show you how to make my favorite dessert … _angel-a-la-mode_.”


End file.
